


Ready

by ashley_ingenious



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Unsafe Sex, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Derek Hale, Breeding Kink, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Human Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Derek Hale, POV Alternating, Referenced Mpreg, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:17:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2639507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashley_ingenious/pseuds/ashley_ingenious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale’s not an idiot, okay. He knew becoming an Alpha wouldn’t prevent him from going into heat. He just thought… he just thought he had more time, because Alpha’s don’t go into heat unless they’re in the presence of their true mate. And that, well, Derek hadn’t been expecting that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready

**Author's Note:**

> This was a not fic on tumblr that kinda hastily got turned into something publishable so...yeah. I just feel like you should know that going in, lol.

He isn’t ready.

Derek Hale’s not an idiot, okay? He knew becoming an Alpha wouldn’t prevent him from going into heat. He just thought… he just thought he had more time, because Alpha’s don’t go into heat unless they’re in the presence of their true mate. And that, well, Derek hadn’t been expecting that.

He’s upstairs, sitting in a pair of briefs on his bed, trying to figure out what the hell he can possibly do. He could hire somebody. He could just ride it out on his own? But it’s coming on fast. Hot and hard and he’s not gonna be able to think clearly much longer. The back of his briefs are already tacky with slick and dammit, Stiles is still there.

Stiles is still there. Researching (“Why can’t I just take the book home?” He’d whined. “The last time I let you take one home there was cheeto dust all over it when I got it back.” Derek growled.)

And he’s an Alpha _technically_ , but he’s never been good at it. He’s not possessive really. He’s got a temper on him but he’s not especially quick to anger. He doesn’t have any of the Alpha traits, he’s just Stiles.

He can smell it though, the heat rising off Derek. And as much as he wants to gather everything up and leave, just run, there’s rules, you know? He learned in health class: you’re not supposed to leave an Omega alone in heat. But this isn’t any Omega. This is Derek fucking Hale. He can’t possibly want _Stiles_. But maybe there’s someone he wants Stiles to call? Somewhere he wants Stiles to drive him? He could probably make it. Could probably ride locked up tight in his tin can of a car with Derek smelling like…he did. They’d crack the windows. It’d be fine.

Still, he sits downstairs pretending he doesn’t smell anything for a long time. Maybe he’s got a fast acting suppressant he could take? Stiles has heard stuff like that exists for rich people, and the Hale financial situation has always been a mystery to him. So he sits there, trying to gather all the pertinent information out of his book, breathing through his mouth. He’s at about a half chub, nothing he can’t deal with. Nothing that’s even necessarily specific to the situation, he’s a growing boy, it happens.

And they stay that way, in a kind of stalemate, until the cursing starts. Long, drawn out moans of, “fuuuuuuck,” and that’s it. Stiles can’t pretend anymore. The heat in the air is getting thicker, and Stiles has to get Derek someone, or get him somewhere, before it gets too bad. Omegas can get sick if they’re not properly cared for, and out of all the things that have tried (are actively trying) to kill Derek Hale, Stiles just thinks it would be terribly fucked up if a heat took him out.

So he’s walking up the stairs thinking he’s seen some pretty decent porn that started like this, but all his good humor dies when he gets to the top of the stairs and sees Derek.

"Dude, seriously, what the fuck?!" He shrieks, a little furious because of course. Of course Derek Hale would do the one thing that would make this situation harder for himself.

Derek is splayed out naked on his bed, taking in huge gulps of air, still pumping his hard, come covered cock.

"Needed," he swallows, "needed to take the edge off."

Stiles swears. “Well, you realize that’s the exact opposite of what you _did_. The first orgasm is the real trigger of the heat. You made it worse.”

Derek is shivering. “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he moans.

"Yeah, because you’re heat drunk as fuck. What do you," he takes a tentative step into the room, "what do you want me to do?"

Stiles isn’t half hard anymore. His dick is a tight line behind his zipper, but he’s still in control. Most of the time, but not always, Omega heat will trigger an Alpha rut. Just another way Stiles isn’t unlike most Alphas he figures. Derek smells good. Like, really good, but Stiles’ head is clear. Derek always smells good anyway.

"Come here," the Wolf growls, and Stiles steps deeper into the room, stopping at the edge of the bed.

"You want me to call somebody? To take you somewhere?"

Derek shakes his head, hand going shaky on his dick. “Why do you smell like an Alpha?”

"Uh, dude, I am an Alpha."

And Derek’s eyes widen a little, and he makes this little choked off noise that Stiles _really_ wants to call a whimper, but then he bites down on it hard, nods his head once and just rolls over onto his hands and knees. Just _presents_ for Stiles like this is a perfectly normal thing for them to be doing. 

(Which, biologically, it is, but **_Jesus_**.)

"Der— what the fuck are you doing?"

"Mount me, Alpha," Derek whines. 

Stiles sputters, blinks. He instinctively steps towards the bed, but there’s nowhere for him to go, the toes of his sneakers hit the mattress frame. 

"Derek. I can’t just…you don’t even _like_ me." 

"Why are you here, then? If you’re not going to take care of me?" He snaps, but it’s countered by the shameless wiggling of his ass in Stiles’ face. 

"Do you like your omegas to beg," he continues, voice going breathless, "I could do that for you, Stiles…I could beg." Derek’s voice goes soft and needy, and Stiles has to shake his head to clear it. 

"You’re gonna regret this later," he murmurs, at a loss. It’s clicking in him, the way it’s supposed to for an Alpha, that he needs to take care of this omega. It’s not the mindless rage of rut, but the smell in the room is getting thicker, and Stiles’ vision is getting a little hazy. 

"Not," Derek sobs out, and Stiles can see his hard cock bobbing up against his stomach. "Please." 

Stiles blinks and he’s pulling his arms out of his hoodie, tossing it across the room. Derek’s ass his flushed, covered with a sheen of sweat. He can see the slick sliding down his inner thighs. 

"Spread yourself for me," he finds himself saying, "let me see." 

"Fuck," Derek whines, but he does it. The bud of his hole is red, puffy and fluttering at nothing, slick dripping out of it in slow, syrupy pulses. 

"God," Stiles mutters as he toes out of his shoes, climbs up on the bed, crawling up the mattress on his knees. 

Derek’s skin is hot when Stiles puts a hand to his lower back. Bracing himself, he ducks down and seals his mouth over that hungry opening. 

Derek _shouts_ and shudders hard, hand leaving his ass to grip the sheets in front of him. Stiles slides his hand into the place where Derek’s once was, humming around him when he gets the first taste of Derek’s slick directly from the source. 

Stiles has been high twice in his life, and this is _better_. It’s none of the druggy, slow feeling meds normally give him. This is pure. He feels cracked open, weightless. 

Pulling up for air, he chuckles and licks at his lips. Derek whines, and Stiles hurries to shush him, running a slick stained hand up his back. 

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he murmurs, running long fingers around Derek’s puffy entrance. He presses a fingertip against the tight skin, just to feel the give.

Derek sucks him in, one finger after another, spasming around him. He works his ass back desperately, and Stiles swears under his breath.

"S’gotta be so hard, playing big, bad Alpha when all you want is this."

He curls his fingers up, searching for the spot he read about. He knows he’s found it when Derek grunts, _sobs_ , and comes all over the sheets under him. Stiles can feel his body relaxing around the fingers still pumping inside him.

"Stiles," he moans, voice raw, "You’ve gotta…"

The younger man scissors his fingers, stretching and spreading him. He’s on autopilot, body moving and words spilling out of his mouth without volition. He’s still fuzzy, moving on instinct. He realizes that he has to get his clothes off, but he doesn’t want to stop touching Derek. Doesn’t want to leave him alone. 

"Roll over, sweetheart. Touch yourself." He says, soothing a hand down Derek’s side. 

But he finds himself closing his eyes, blocking out the picture Derek must make as he struggles out of his flannel and tshirt (no Alpha grace either). Wrestling himself out of his belt,  he shoves his jeans and boxers down. His blood is a roar in his ears as the cool air hits his dick. 

"Stiles," Derek whines, and Stiles’ eyes fly open. The wolf is writhing on the bed, cock obscenely red, choking it roughly.

"Slow down, Derek," Stiles says immediately, "take it easy."

"You’ve gotta…" Derek chokes out, but Stiles is already nodding.

"I know, sweetheart. I just need a condom."

"Can’t hurt me. Won’t hurt you. Just  _please_.” 

Stiles can’t help but lean forward and take Derek’s mouth. Plunge his tongue in and take all that lush heat that’s being offered to him. Derek is gasping when they break apart. 

"You could carry," Stiles murmurs, wrenching open the bedside drawer and fumbling until he finds a condom. 

“ _Yesssssss_ , breed me, Alpha” Derek moans, catting his hips up as he lets a clawed hand skate down Stiles’ back. And Stiles is right on the edge of rut, has to be right on the edge because the bite of pain in his back makes him grin. 

"You would be pretty," he hums as he slides the condom onto his aching cock, "All fucked full of me." 

He lines himself up slowly, head of his cock inching into Derek’s tightness, slick pulsing around him as he works himself in. 

Derek’s head is thrown back, tendons in his neck standing out as he arches, works himself down to get more cock in him. He’s greedy and panting and Stiles is still smiling as he slows down his thrust, dragging it out further. 

"Stiles," Derek gasps, "Alpha, please, fuck me, fuck me, please," he whines, begging. And Stiles knows that his rut is right around the corner, that soon it’ll be driving and instinctual, that he won’t be able to control it. He doubts, when the haze of hormones clears, that he’ll be able to remember much after this. He’s resolved to go as slow as he can for as long as he can. To remember Derek Hale spread out under him like this, pretty and flushed and begging for his dick. 

When he does bottom out, he leans in and lets himself lick at the pulse point in Derek’s neck, where the claiming bite would be. 

"More," Derek whimpers, hands scrabbling at Stiles’ hips. The teenager just laughs into his throat. 

"You have to fuck me. You have to. You have to give me what I need or I’ll find somebody else to—" 

The roaring, incomprehensible rage of rut slams into Stiles, then. Snatching Derek’s hands from his hips, he pins the wolf’s wrists against the headboard, hips working furiously. 

"Someone else?" He snarls, hips angling until they find that same spot, that hot place that makes Derek keen. 

Heat suspends the healing process in wolves, Stiles knows. He can almost feel the blood rising under his hands, knows that Derek will have deep, purpling bruises ringing his wrists for  _days_. It makes him dip down, bite a bruise into Derek’s collarbone, another below his Adam’s apple. He licks and sucks at the pulse point, teasing, and Derek comes again between them. The werewolf is reduced to mewls and whimpers now, thighs shaking as Stiles rams into him. 

"There’s no one else," the boy growls, "No one else you’d lay yourself out like this for. Like a slut, Derek. Like my pretty little omega whore." 

"Yes— I, yes. Don’t stop," Derek moans, and Stiles chuckles. 

"Not stopping, sweetheart. Not stopping," Stiles grunts, but he can feel his knot growing, stretching out his skin. He slams in harder, deeper, swiveling his hips to hit all of Derek’s sweet spots before thrusting one last time, and letting his knot fill and lock them together. 

"Yes, yes, yes," Derek chants quietly, and Stiles rolls his hips to keep the pressure up against his prostate. He can feel it rising in Derek, the need to come again, so he reaches his hand down, wraps it around the wolf’s cock, jerks roughly once, twice, and then Derek is shouting, shivering and coming hot and hard around Stiles’ cock. 

The omega’s orgasm triggers his own. He can feel himself start to spill over, teeth gritted against the bone deep ache of it. He collapses into Derek’s throat, the wolf’s breathing already evening out in sleep. 

When Stiles is spent, Stiles pulls only to find the condom torn, unable to hold the amount of come pumped into it, and his seed spilling out of Derek’s hole. 

——

When Derek comes to, the room is too bright and Stiles is gone. There’s a bottle of water and a fresh looking salad on the bedside table, and he can hear the teenager moving around downstairs. 

"Stiles," he calls out, and smiles a little at the crash bang of something falling as Stiles runs up to answer him. 

"You’re up," he says dumbly, looking entirely too at home in a pair of Derek’s sweats and nothing else. His hair is wet, so obviously he helped himself to a shower, but he still smells like Derek. And Derek smells like him. They smell _mated_ and Derek likes it. Likes it a whole lot more than he should.

He just nods in response. 

"The uhm…the condom broke," Stiles mutters guiltily, and then it’s Derek’s turn to run an embarrassed hand over the back of his neck. 

"I know," he replies, "I felt it." 

"Dude! Why didn’t you say something? I could’ve tried to pull out! We could’ve—" 

But Derek just shrugs, picks up the bottle of water to give his hands something to do. “Didn’t want you to.” 

They’re silent for a while, Stiles’ eyes alternating between being intensely on Derek or desperately anywhere else in the room. 

"I’m hungry," Derek mutters after a while.

"Eat your salad," Stiles supplies. Derek looks at it with narrowed eyes. 

"I’m not a woodland creature, Stiles. I need food." 

"You had a three day heat, and then you slept for two. You can’t just dive right into a rack of ribs, Derek. Eat your damn salad." Stiles spits. 

Derek huffs, but he grabs the salad from off the nightstand. There’s chicken tossed into it,  and heirloom tomatoes like he likes, so that’s something. He takes a tentative bite. Then another because it’s delicious. 

He’s about halfway through the salad when Stiles starts fidgeting again. 

"Do you think you’re…?" He asks, looking meaningfully at Derek’s stomach.

Derek shrugs again. “Too soon to tell.” 

"How long?" 

"The full moon I guess. I’ll go see Deaton." 

Stiles nods, but he’s still wringing his hands. 

"If you are, I’m sorry." he says quietly.

"I’m not. It’s not like, I mean, you’re a kid. I’m not expecting—" 

"Shut the fuck up." Stiles snaps, stomping into the room and sitting down on the bed next to Derek. 

"If you are, then I’m in. All in. Hell, I’m down to be in even if you’re not. I just didn’t think you’d want…I mean. I don’t know. I’m me and you’re… _you_. But don’t act like I’m some idiot kid that’s just gonna leave you with this. When have I ever done that? When have I ever just left, Derek?” 

"You’re too young," Derek grunts, and Stiles laughs. 

"Yeah. Hell yeah. Way too young for hunters and guns and near death experiences. Totally. But for babies? Dude, there’s a whole tv show about people younger than me having kids. It’s not even that much of a thing. I’m in, Derek," he says, reaching out to tip Derek’s chin up with a finger. "I need you to know that I’m in." 

The wolf nods, and the conversation is tabled for a while. 

—-

Four days later, Deaton assures Derek that he is not, in fact, pregnant. The wolf leaves with some foul smelling herbs that he’s been instructed to boil and drink for his next heat, to avoid the same dilemma. 

Stiles is waiting with the Jeep outside. Derek told him he didn’t have to come, but of course he didn’t listen. 

Figuring it’d be best to get it over with, Derek takes a deep breath and marches over to the Jeep, mouth set in a grim line. Stiles is leaning up against it, watching him with eyes that are too old for the baby fat left in his cheeks. Derek wishes for a moment he could still see him as a child, but he remembers the brute strength in those fingers as Stiles held him down, the heat of that plush mouth against his neck. 

"So?" Stiles asks, impatient, as soon as Derek’s within earshot. 

The older man just shakes his head. 

Stiles’ face is a dizzying range of emotions for the first few seconds, but he finally settles on something that looks considerably more disappointed than Derek was expecting. 

"You said," he finds himself saying, unable to stop himself no matter how bad an idea it is, "You said even if I wasn’t…" 

And just like that, Stiles is pushing himself off the car, sliding into Derek’s space, still a few inches shorter than him but refusing to act like it. 

"Hey," he breathes quietly, wrapping two tentative arms around Derek’s waist, "I’m still in." 

Derek lets himself smile, a small thing that few people have ever truly seen, and sigh in relief. 

"Me too." 

And Derek will have to explain it to him. Mates, and what it means, and whether that’s something he wants, because Derek has promised himself he’ll deal with it, figure it out somehow, if it’s not what Stiles wants.

But for now, he lets himself be guided into the driver’s seat of the Camaro, let’s Stiles kiss him on the temple and murmur, “I’ll meet you there,” before closing the door. Lets himself drive home with a smile on his face because he’s found his mate and his mate _wants_ him, and they didn’t have a baby but they might some day and…all in all? This is probably the best things have gone for Derek Hale in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Dubcon pertains to the nature of heat sex. Also, Stiles solidifies a mate bond with Derek without the knowledge that he's doing so.
> 
> I'm [here](http://theluckyouvegot.tumblr.com) on tumblr. I'm a wreck, but I'm there.


End file.
